


Penumbra

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Finn-centric, Force-Sensitive Finn, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I’m sorry,” says Kylo.Finn sighs, swallowing the anger that was bubbling up his throat. “Are you?” he asks.Kylo’s only response is to smush his features even further into the transparisteel, his glittering black eyes like burning coals.Their ship has a destination, and Finn has a job to do.
Relationships: Finn/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

Kylo presses his face to the transparisteel barrier. “I know that I hurt you.”

The way his voice echoes throughout the ship’s brig—empty save for them—should be impossible. It feels like there’s nothing between him and Finn at all. Finn would wonder if Kylo’s using the Force to fiddle with the acoustics—but no, the Force-dampening manacles on him are perfectly intact.

“Oh, really?” says Finn, keeping his voice perfectly even. “Were you not aware that getting your back sliced open was painful?”

“I’m sorry,” says Kylo.

Finn sighs, swallowing the anger that was bubbling up his throat. “Are you?” he asks.

Kylo’s only response is to smush his features even further into the transparisteel, his glittering black eyes like burning coals. His gaze is intense, and far too familiar for someone whom Finn has only seen a handful of times in his life. Most of those instances were marred with pain, and terror, and regret.

Finn just wants this whole trip to be over. When Leia asked him to do what needed to be done, he’d almost refused. But if not him, he’d realized, then whom? Rey would rather let Kylo run amok than soil her hands by ending him. No, someone who truly knew what was at stake would have to deal with the defeated Supreme Leader.

“You think I deserve to die,” whispers Kylo, like it’s some sort of secret. He looks—as he always does—on the verge of tears.

Finn meets his stare, reminding himself that the man before him can not possibly read his mind—at least, not at present. “You killed thousands of innocent people.” He doesn’t mention Han Solo. It’d be uncharacteristically petty. Although it’s hardly as if Kylo is deserving of courtesy. “You stood by and watched the deaths of billions more. You ruled over the fascist junta that kidnapped and brainwashed—” He cuts himself off. It’s not like Kylo isn’t already aware of the war crimes he’s committed against the galaxy. 

“I love you,” says Kylo. He says it severely, in the voice of the base medic assessing a terminal injury.

Finn draws in a deep breath. “I know.” In many ways, the thing between them is a wound. One he wishes he hadn’t let fester. 

“Tell me you feel what I do,” Kylo pleads. “Or tell me you felt the same, at one time. At any time. Please.”

“We held hands. Once,” says Finn, tired of this. Tired of everything. 

It happened years ago, when Snoke was still alive and Kylo still flinched whenever people called him by his supposed name. It happened on a planet called Pavor, a tidally-locked body with only a thin, gray strip of habitable land. Once, it was a stronghold of the Sith. Now it is a ruin, a shadow of what it once was. Snoke ordered Kylo to survey the ruins. Finn and the rest of his squad were sent as reinforcement in case the planet turned out to be the abode of some alien horror. 

They stepped foot on that barren, desolate world together. Kylo screamed. Finn swallowed the terror that crawled up his throat. They were both nearly crushed by the weight of all the lives that were lost where they stood. Somehow, through it all, Kylo’s hand found Finn’s and then everything...everything stopped.

“Your beloved Republic won’t execute me.” Kylo says it almost mournfully, his voice dragging Finn from his thoughts.

“You’re right.” Finn lifts his hand. He feels the Force flow between them like a current. He feels the yawning chasm in Kylo. He feels how easy it would be to crush his throat. How easy it _will_ be. “They won’t.”

Finn draws in a deep breath, and curls his fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

Finn doesn’t kill him, no matter how much he wants to. No matter how much the galaxy needs him to. Instead, he releases the monster that was once called Ben Solo. The Force dissipates around them like smoke in dry air as Kylo slides to the floor. Finn looks down at him. He finds it suddenly hard to breathe, as if a hand is tightening around his own throat. Kylo looks nothing so much as a heap of wet black cloth.

“I have to check on the engines,” Finn says, the words leaping from his mouth unbidden. “I’ll kill you later.”

Kylo’s head tilts upward. He peers back up at Finn and smiles, revealing teeth pinked with blood. He must have bitten his tongue while Finn was almost-asphyxiating him. “I think you could snap my neck and then go check the engines. If you really wanted.” 

“I don’t care what you think,” Finn snaps. 

He turns on his heel and storms out. 

He’s not quite fast enough to miss Kylo’s last words: “We’re even now.”

Without a word, Finn punches the panel by the door. It slams shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The ship has a destination, and Finn has a job to do. They’re en route to Eruku, a bone-dry desert world at the edge of the Outer Rim. The dusty planet hangs between the almost-civilized universe and the untamed wilds of the Unknown Regions. A bonafide planetary armpit, riddled with mines. Years ago, First Order resource scouts happened upon a fantastic deposit of rhodium-bearing ore. It was pure luck. The rest of Eruku is as worthless as any other sandy rock, but the First Order left no stone unturned in its ravenous search for mineral wealth. Agents from the fledgling Twice-New Galactic Senate rediscovered Eruku a year ago. There’s a prison there now, constructed within the abandoned quarries. 

When the ship lands on Eruku in two weeks, the Warden will find Kylo dead. Finn will tell her there was a struggle. That he acted in self-defense. That it was an accident, a regrettable one. The Resistance is merciful. And so on and so forth. That is the agreement. The Warden will graciously accept the supplies he’s brought, refuel his ship, and send him on his way back to the Resistance. He is, after all, one of its two new Generals, and he has a galaxy to rebuild. This journey is a favor, an increasingly complex one.

“I’ve lost my son,” Leia told him, before he left the base. Before she formally retired from command. “But I haven’t lost hope.” And then she took Finn’s hands in hers.

Finn told her he wouldn’t let her down.

And yet now the ship floats in silence, suspended in the oily darkness between stars. Finn yanked the craft out of hyperspace so he could check the engines. They’re fine, of course. He knew that to begin with, but it’s important to carry out routine inspections. There’s no such thing as being _too_ safe. So why not run another scan? And another, after that? After the fourth check he pulls in a deep breath and tries not to scream.

Finn looks out at the vast, twinkling canvas of stars before him. He’s been reading a lot of poetry lately. It’s not like there’s much else to do, besides sleep and meditate. He’s halfway through a book Rey handed him before he departed, Kylo in tow. It’s a worn, clothbound tome, obviously a regifted present bestowed upon Rey by someone who really didn’t know her well. When offered anything that’s not ancient Jedi lore or junk maps, Rey pretends to be illiterate. He’s seen her do it, and she’s actually quite convincing. The last verse he read was about mercy—something he can no longer afford.

Murdering Kylo feels wrong. Murdering _anyone_ feels wrong. There was a moment when he was strangling Kylo, when that last wisp of breath escaped from his too-wide mouth, that Finn felt something deep within himself fracture. Kylo is defenseless. And, beyond that, sort of pathetic. Executing him would be like putting down an akk dog that bit your hand just because it’s too stupid to know any better. Perhaps Finn should—

No. He promised Leia. He _promised_. No prison is strong enough to hold Vader’s grandson for long. If he doesn’t kill Kylo now, he’ll break free and pick up where he left off. Leia almost died trying to bring her idiot offspring back to the Light. Finn knows that Kylo will fall to the Dark Side again, if only given the chance. And just because Kylo’s too ignorant to know right from wrong doesn’t make him any less of a threat. In the end, his vast stupidity meant precious little to the thousands of souls he personally snuffed out.

Saving Rey on Exegol was a split-second decision, an act of pure, blind instinct. Kylo must have hoped he’d be returned to his mother's embrace, with all his crimes forgiven and his mistakes forgotten. Now that he’ll finally face the consequences of setting half the galaxy aflame, it’s very likely that regret has festered where once there was resolve. If Kylo turns again—which he will—Leia won’t survive him. No one will.

But just to be absolutely certain, Finn decides to check. Leia has finally succeeded in convincing him to join Rey’s lessons. The ex-General may have begun her retirement—well-earned a thousand times over—but she won’t be leaving the base any time soon. Rey prefers to slash and jab and levitate her way through a problem; her immense physical powers make it all so easy for her. 

Finn finds subtler uses of the Force far more compelling. He’s better at it, partly because he spent so much of his life mentally shielding himself—from Kylo, from the Knights of Ren, from the entire First Order and all of its horror. Subconsciously, of course, but still. His physical manipulation of the Force is nothing to laugh at, but he’s reached a point in his training where he no longer cares. Rey still wants to bet on who can lift the most rocks. Finn indulges her, and loses amicably. Rey can shatter mountains. Finn is learning to shatter minds.

So the next time he drags himself to the brig, presses his thumb against the fingerprint scanner, and strides up to Kylo’s cell, his hands are open. 

And soon, so is Kylo’s mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Kylo’s mind, as Finn soon discovers, is disgusting. The oceans of anger and sorrow and fear are awful enough, but it’s the complete and utter chaos that makes Finn want to retch. The mad tangle of emotion is nauseating, and dimly he feels himself stumble and slide down against the cold metal wall. But somehow he finds the strength to push forward. What he uncovers is unsettling.

Kylo Ren is many things. The fallen son of resistance legends, the butcher of thousands, the former Master of the Knights of Ren. And, for a little over a year, he was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Kylo is many things, but remorseful is not one of them. Desperate, though, certainly is. He’s desperate to be forgiven, even if he doesn’t quite understand that he’s done things that necessitate forgiveness in the first place. He’s desperate for acceptance, companionship, anything and everything that was denied to him when he served and commanded the First Order. And all of that desperation revolves around Finn, orbiting him like a twisted galaxy around a supermassive black hole. Kriff, he’s been reading too much poetry.

Finn shifts back both mentally and physically, releasing Kylo as if he were a soiled handkerchief. If only his job was merely to dispose of a dirty napkin, and not the equally filthy pile of refuse before him.

“No,” snarls Finn. That word is the first thing he’s said to Kylo in days. “I will _not_ be your tether to the Light. Find someone else to fixate on. Or better yet, _something_.”

“No,” Kylo echoes, with just as much vehemence. And then, almost bitterly, “I _won’t_. I want to be good.”

Finn narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you even know what that means.”

Kylo’s eyes are so wide Finn can see the entirety of his irises, mud-brown surrounded by rings of burning white. “Then show me.”

A horrible concoction of revulsion and pity pours into Finn’s gut. “I’m supposed to kill you.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten,” Kylo snaps, shoving sweat-damp curls of hair out of his eyes. “Thank you for reminding me.” His sneer, though, wavers. “Why haven’t you?”

An entire galaxy of sentient beings demand justice. And that justice, as far as those billions of souls are concerned, will be their vengeance. If the survivors of the war Kylo supported, strengthened, and spurred on want his blood spread across the stars, who is Finn to disagree? He may be a general and a war hero—though he certainly doesn’t think of himself as such—but the people who lost everything and everyone they cared for because of Kylo are the only ones who have the right to decide his fate. And it’s hardly as if he’s forgotten what Kylo has done to _him_ —

“As I said, we’re even,” Kylo interrupts, teeth bared. “I tried to kill you, you tried to kill me. Neither of us succeeded.”

The Force-dampening manacles prevent him from making use of the full extent of his abilities, but picking up basic thoughts and feelings is well within his lessened power. And Finn was thinking very loudly.

“I’ll have that scar forever,” Finn hisses.

“Well, my neck still hurts.” He sounds petulant.

Instead of giving into the answering tide of anger rising within him, Finn turns his mind inward. He’s certainly not afraid of Kylo, nor does he feel any deep, personal desire to end his life. Finn sighs. He’s not going to execute Kylo, but the humanoid garbage heap might still kill him. Whether out of frustration or fatigue, he has no idea; only time will tell. Finn sighs again, louder now. 

This trip will be a long one.


End file.
